Whether We Whisper or Yell
by Malinear
Summary: A broad assortment of drabbles and prompt fills from the dragon age and likeahawke LJ communities.  Some angst, some fluff, more than a little Carver/Merrill in the mix. ;
1. Merrill's Childhood

_These are mostly short fills from either the dragon_age or likeahawke LJ communities' prompt fests, though there may be longer drabbles from time to time as the mood strikes. They'll cover a broad range of characters, pairings and situations, and some of them are a little bit evil. Don't ask me why, I just write evil things sometimes. But if any of it makes you cry, it probably did me as well. Enjoy!_

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><p><strong>Merrill's childhood<strong>

"She'll never get to be a normal child, ma vhenan. We won't even get to watch her grow up, not with the arlathvhen two months away."

"We have no other choice. We knew it was a possibility, with my own magic, for our children to share the gift. And there are so few amongst the Dalish now that can bear the mantle of Keeper, not enough for all of the clans to have someone to lead them should something happen to their own. We cannot be greedy when we have both Keeper and First here."

"I know that you speak the truth, I had just hoped...she's only four..."

"She will make us proud, emma sa'lath. She will learn earlier than most and she will help our people thrive. And her new clan will love her as much as we do. No one can resist our Merrill, our da'vhenan**."**


	2. When Nathaniel Gets Married

_This was the first drabble I ever wrote for the fandom, shortly after DA2 was released and I was still on my first playthrough of Awakening as well. And my love for this pairing has continued to grow ever since._ _This wasn't actually a normal prompt-fest entry, but part of a game called When Nouns Verb._

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><p><strong>When Nathaniel Gets Married<strong>

It was a far cry from anything he'd ever imagined his life would become, even when he'd still been young and foolish enough to believe in things such as dreams. Not that he'd ever had any great aspirations, mind, being the youngest son of an Arl and spending more years in the Free Marches than on any lands actually held by his family. Any dreams he might have entertained surely had been dashed with his father's treachery and execution.

At least, with the Grey Wardens, one's family or birthright meant little to most. They were alike, connected by a darker secret than anyone outside of their order knew. The Joining was a death sentence, to be sure; you either died as the darkspawn blood entered your system or you had approximately thirty years to find your death fighting the foul creatures before the Taint truly took its hold. Maker's breath though, it looked like he'd not be alone for what time he had left.

Nathaniel had sometimes wondered how he'd ended up where he was, if the Maker hadn't had a hand in it all along. After the years of darkspawn dreams, of trying to prove to himself that he was more than the sum of his father's deeds, who else but the Maker could have led him to _her?_ He'd been waiting at the docks in Amaranthine six years ago to greet Stroud's ship when he'd seen her step off, her white knuckled grip on her mage staff the only thing keeping her upright until he could reach her to offer a steady arm.

Bethany smiled brightly up at him now, her amber colored eyes so much brighter than the haunted, sleepless ones that had first turned his way. They'd both come a long way in those years and the trials that had come with them. He squeezed her hands gently in his as he repeated the simple vows, only vaguely aware of the look in her sister's eyes that promised he'd best be holding to them or she'd know why.

He didn't wait for the cleric to pronounce them husband and wife before he'd pulled Bethany into his arms and sealed his promises with a kiss. They might not have a normal lifetime together, probably would never be able to have children, not with the Taint that coursed through their veins. But if the Maker willed it, they'd take that last journey together.


	3. Hello Beautiful

_Let's just say I'm warning you now that you might hate me for this one and leave it at that, okay? I apologize in advance.  
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><p><strong>Hello Beautiful<strong>

It was taking too long.

He wandered through the market in Hightown, the first time he'd seen daylight in weeks, but he'd needed to clear his head, to step away from all of the research and the tests and just be able to think again. Besides, there was always the chance that he'd find that last part, the final piece to the puzzle that had haunted his every thought for the past three years. He'd found all of the others that way, after all. Little bits of serendipity. But it had been too long since his last bit of fortune and he was getting nowhere fast.

He sighed in frustration as he stepped away from another stall and back into the crowds. And then he saw her. A ghost? Had he been in the blistering summer heat too long already? But that was his Elsie, leaning down to smell the wares at a florist's stall, and yet...not quite. Elsie had been shorter, a bit rounder, less...well bred. But that face, oh he remembered it well. So like Elsie's, and one he hadn't seen for over twenty years, not since that Hawke fellow had run off with her.

Leandra Amell was the last piece he needed after all. The face that had drawn him to his wife would be the one that would finally reunite him with her at long last.

"Soon, my love."


	4. Being Mean to Merrill

_So if you made it this far, it means you don't completely hate me for that last one, right? Right? I'll give you a couple of silly fills before I try and break your heart again.  
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><p><strong>Being mean to Merrill...<strong>

Merrill stormed past him scowling, eyes blazing with annoyance and the tips of her ears an angry red. She didn't even acknowledge him on her way out of the Hanged Man. That almost wounded his pride.

Hawke raised a brow at the chuckling dwarf at the bar, "You wouldn't happen to know why the most annoyingly cheerful elf I've ever met looked ready to shoot lightning up the ass of the first person who doesn't get out of her way, would you Varric?"

"Maybe I'm a bad man, Hawke, but being mean to Merrill is like drowning a puppy and liking it."


	5. Merrill Contemplates Babies

**Merrill contemplates babies**

"You know, Junior," Varric begins, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he looks around their crowded table. Hawke is at one end, whispering illicit things into Fenris's ear if the elf's reaction is any indication while the younger brother is just settling in at the other end next to a smiling, if slightly tipsy Merrill. "Your big brother over there doesn't appear to have any plans to carry on the family name. Neither one of them have the right equipment for it. It looks like it's going to be up to you and Daisy to get started on that next generation of little Hawkes."

Carver nearly chokes on his ale, his eyes watering as he tries to sputter out out a response. But Merrill beats him to it, a far off look on her face as she sighs wistfully at the men across the table, "It's too bad that one of them isn't a girl, don't you think? I think they'd make beautiful children! Tiny little brooding Hawkes running around, Elgar'nan, it'd be so cute!"

Varric grins and voices his agreement, giving Carver a look that warns that just because Merrill had missed the most important part of his teasing, he knows damned well that the younger Hawke hadn't.


	6. Whether We Whisper or Yell

_Aaand back to the angst. :3 I'll toss something lighter up after though!_**  
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><p><strong>Whether we whisper or yell<strong>

It was almost like reliving that moment when he'd helplessly watched his twin sister be flung to the ground in a broken heap by the ogre. He had been unable to do anything to save Bethany, though he would have gladly traded places with her in that instant, given his life for her own. But the Maker hadn't ever asked him what he wanted, hadn't ever let him keep anything that he held dear. And as he watched Ser Alrik parade his newest prize into the Gallows' courtyard, he saw his last treasure stolen away from him.

Carver barely registered the horrified curse behind him or his Knight-Captain's firm grasp holding him back? Upright? He wasn't even sure whether he'd whispered or yelled her name, as panic and horror and heartache took hold, everything blurring away but the sight of her.

It was hard to get a good glimpse as she was surrounded by Alrik's little group of anti-mage fanatics, but the sick feeling in his core confirmed his greatest fear. The brand was freshly burnt onto her pale brow, the blazing sun marring the delicate lines of her vallaslin. And even from where he stood, he could see that Merrill's impossibly large green eyes were completely devoid of any emotion, as expressionless as the rest of her face.


	7. Rain

_Still here? Good!_

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><p><strong>Rain<strong>

He hadn't thought it possible for anything to make the elf look so...tiny. She was drenched from head to bare toes, her tunic clinging to her willowy frame as she shivered and tried to back herself into a tiny little corner under a crumbling overhang. Not that it would protect her from the downpour that had been bathing the entire city all afternoon, she looked to have soaked up enough of the wet for the entire Alienage's share.

What was she even doing out here? Anywhere she could have possibly needed to be was on the opposite end of Lowtown. Maker's ass, but _he_ wouldn't even be in this part of town if it weren't for that little favor that Athenril had talked Garret into doing for her which had promptly gotten shoved off onto him when something better had come along to take up his brother's time. Shit.

"Merrill?"

Her head snapped up, impossibly huge green eyes meeting his in the most pathetic look he'd seen since they'd found that injured mabari pup stuck in a hole in Old Man Randol's fields years ago. "Oh, Carver...I didn't see you there."

He could swear even her ears were drooping which was silly. Elves' ears couldn't do that, could they? He knew that they, or at least hers, could turn pink with a blush, but he wasn't sure about the drooping thing. Even if Merrill looked like a drowned cat at the moment, that was probably taking the mental image a bit far.

"Carver?"

He realized he'd been staring at her without actually saying anything long enough for her to join him with a worried expression. "You shouldn't be out here in the rain. What'll you do if you got sick? I thought you said you weren't any good at healing? What are you even doing out this way? Did you get lost again?" He, at least, had been prepared for the rain, having grabbed a patched, but dry cloak before going on the stupid pick up for the smuggler. He tugged at the cord around his neck and settled the wool around Merrill's shoulders while berating her.

She gave him a slight smile, drowning in the yards of wool that completely enveloped her small frame, "Elgar'nan, you sound like the Keeper. And I was on my to go see Varric but I think I took a wrong turn someplace and ended up at the docks and then there was this bird with a broken wing that some boys were picking on. I managed to find Anders to get him patched up but on the way back home there was an old lady that was yelling at me for something so I took a shortcut to get away from the screeching and somehow I'm not sure where I am anymore. Besides in Lowtown, in Kirkwall." She peered up at him as he tugged the hood of the cloak over her head, "Do _you_ know where we are?"

Andraste's tits, he had no response to all of that but to sigh. "Yes, Merrill. Come on, let's get you home and out of those wet things." And _of course_, she couldn't just follow along quietly, but had to practically skip through every damned puddle in their walk across Lowtown. No wonder she was completely drenched. They were almost to the Alienage when the stomp-splashing stopped, Merrill standing in what was basically a pot hole large enough to bathe a mabari in, an odd look on her face as she stared at him.

"What now?" He didn't even care that he sounded impatient. He was soaked through now as well and his sense of charity and chivalry was wearing thin.

"Before...did you mean something dirty?"


	8. Warts and All

_I really do write things that aren't Carver/Merrill or horridly angsty, I swear! This and the next one at least are free of both!  
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><p><strong>Warts and All<strong>

"Sister?"

Marian rolled over to peer at Bethany from over the edge of the top bunk, then squeezed her eyes tight to keep the room from spinning. They'd left the Hanged Man just in time for the pair of them to actually make it back to Gamlen's on their own, wobbling and giggling through the dark corridors of Lowtown, several mugs each of that horrible ale in their bellies.

"Yeah, Beth?"

"'m glad Flemeth didn't turn us into toads or anythin'. In Fur- Ferelll.." There was a bubble of laughter below, "back home."

Marian nodded sagely, her chin bumping the side rail smartly, "Coulda been a favor for me if she'd turned you though. I coulda been the pretty one then."

There was a sharp shift under her knees as Bethany kicked the mattress, followed by another giggle, "You'd love me anyway though, right Sister? Warts and all?"

"Warts and all, Beth."


	9. Let Your Hair Down

**Let Your Hair Down**

"Don't step any closer."

"Aww, Big Girl, you're doing it all wrong."

Aveline's eyes narrowed at the pirate currently ignoring her order and sauntering closer. "I mean it, you so much as look at anything wrong during this and I will have you in lockup faster than you can get someone in your bed."

Isabela's smirk widened into an all-out grin as she stopped just behind the little stool that Aveline was sitting on, tossing her a wink in the mirror. The pins were deftly removed before Aveline could stop her, nimble fingers smoothing copper locks around her face. The twist they'd been in all morning gave her hair just a hint of a curl, softening her face as her eyes shifted up to Isabela's reflected gaze.

"You're getting married, not going off to inspection. Let your hair down, just once. Trust me."

Aveline only sighed as she stood, being especially careful not to step on the hem of the dress Leandra had picked out. Every last one of them had interfered with this day, each in their own infuriating way. And to the Void with them all if they hadn't all been right, even the hair pin thief currently trying to tug the neck of her bodice just a bit lower. She smacked the hands away, grinning, "Knock it off, you tart."


End file.
